


Journey Home

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode Tag, Forgiveness, M/M, Memories, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: Episode Tag for Season 21, Episode 2, "The Darkest Journey Home".ADA Carisi pays a visit to the NYPD psychologist overseeing the trauma-informed interviews training, and delves into a trauma of his own.





	Journey Home

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly only watched this episode to see how much screentime they gave Carisi now that he was ADA, but then, since by virtue of his new position we were robbed of watching him explore one of his many traumas, I decided to do it myself.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Carisi hesitated for a moment, tossing a slightly nervous look down the hall as if someone might spot him before knocking on the door. “Come in,” a voice called, and he hesitated a moment more before opening the door.

“ADA Carisi?” the blonde-haired woman asked, and even though it had been a couple weeks, it still made his stomach do flip-flops to hear the title. “I’m Dr. Hanover.”

“Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” Carisi said, holding out his hand for her to shake before sitting down across from her. “I understand you’re an NYPD psychologist working with SVU?”

She nodded. “You’re right,” she said, before pausing and adding, “Well, half-right, at least. I split my time with NYPD and private practice.” She gave him a small smile. “But that’s enough about me. I was a little surprised when you called my office to set this up, since you’re no longer a police officer and assumedly aren't on orders from the new Deputy Chief to be kept up to date on the latest interviewing techniques.”

Even though she said it politely enough, Carisi still flushed slightly. “No, I know, but, uh, we still have to talk to the vics as part of trial prep and whatever else. And I’d like to be able to understand the case notes from this technique when they inevitably come to you.”

Dr. Hanover examined him carefully for a long moment. “Very well,” she said. “You understand that this part of the training is a roleplay, right?”

“That’s what Amanda — I mean, uh, Det. Rollins — told me,” Carisi said, sitting up a little straighter.

That didn’t seem to surprised Dr. Hanover. “You’re close with your former colleagues,” she said, and Carisi shrugged.

“We’re friends.”

Something about the way he said it made Dr. Hanover purse her lips slightly, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t say it. Instead, she changed the subject. “So for this roleplay, I’m going to ask you to think of a personal trauma, and we’re going to explore it using the trauma-informed interviewing technique.”

Carisi nodded slowly. “What if I don’t have a personal trauma to draw on?”

Dr. Hanover sat forward, and the look she gave him was almost amused. “Mr. Carisi, I’m sure this won’t surprise you, but when you called my office to set this meeting up, I took the liberty of pulling your file.”

Carisi’s brow furrowed. “Ok, so—”

“So you were held at gunpoint multiple times, including once where, had Capt. Benson not shot the perp right in front of you, you likely would not be sitting here today.” Carisi flinched and Dr. Hanover paused, searching his expression for a moment before adding, “Not to mention, Sgt. Dodds’ death, and of course, what happened with your niece—”

“No.” Carisi’s voice was harsh. “No, I’m not gonna talk about that.”

Dr. Hanover’s expression didn’t change as she nodded. “And you don’t have to. But my point is, there are things you can talk about, or you can talk about anything else. Any moment where it felt like you had control taken from you.”

For a long moment, Carisi fidgeted with the button on his shirt cuff. “Any moment?” he repeated finally.

“Anything. Big or small. Size doesn’t matter when it comes to trauma.”

He didn’t seem to pick up on her gentle joke, just nodding in a resigned sort of way as he sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Ok,” he said. “I’m ready.”

“Ok,” she echoed, her voice calm, neutral, almost soothing. “Tell me what brought you here. Help me understand what happened to you — whatever comes to mind: what you saw, what you heard, if anything.”

Carisi nodded again, his eyes closing as his brow furrowed. “I remember the smell of scotch,” he said softly. “And not the good stuff, either. I never used to be able to tell the difference, y’know? But hang around Barba enough and it rubs off on you, even if it’s not really your drink.”

“Barba?” Dr. Hanover prompted gently.

“Rafael Barba.”

“The former ADA?”

Carisi jerked a nod. “Yeah.”

Dr. Hanover gave him a moment before prompting again, “Tell me more about the scotch.”

“Oh, right, um…” Carisi rubbed his hands against his pants as if he was nervous, as if he had been nervous in the moment he was replaying in his mind. “I swear I could smell it through the door, even though I’m sure that’s an exaggeration. I was, uh, I was at home. We’d, uh, we’d mostly put the case to bed, or so I thought, so I got to call it an early night. Or I did until y’know, the knock.”

This time, he didn’t need Dr. Hanover to prompt him to continue, instead continuing the story of his own accord. “So I go to open the door, thinking maybe it’s one of my neighbors or something but it’s not. It’s him. Barba. He looked…”

He trailed off, his brow furrowing again. “I wanna say he looked panicked, or upset, or something, but truth be told, I don’t think he did. I think I just wanted him to.”

“You wanted him to be upset?” Dr. Hanover asked.

“No, I mean, uh — later. When I remembered it. I think I’d’ve had an easier time of it if he’d been upset, but God, when was Rafael ever upset? I saw him lose his cool, what, a handful of times, maybe? He was…” Carisi trailed off, his shoulders slumping slightly. “He was always better than that.”

He fell into a brooding silence, one that Dr. Hanover had to again interrupt. “Mr. Carisi,” she said quietly. “Think back to the smell of scotch.”

Carisi blinked as if he had forgotten what he was supposed to be talking about. “Right,” he said. “Barba smelled like scotch. It was the first thing I noticed. Which, back in those days, he smelled like scotch more than I think I realized at the time. But he, uh, he didn’t look drunk. So when he asked to come in, I said sure.”

“I offered him another drink, but— he said he didn’t want one. And I thought that was weird, y’know? He’d clearly been drinking, so why wouldn’t he want another drink? But he said he didn’t come there to drink, that he came there to, uh, to tell me something.”

Again he fell into silence, but this time, Dr. Hanover made no move to interrupt. “He said he wanted me to hear it from me,” Carisi said finally. “He said that after everything, I deserved to hear it from him.”

He shook his head slowly. “I asked him what he was talking about, but he didn’t answer, he just— he just stared at me. Like he couldn’t look away. And he reached up and he, he touched my cheek.” He brushed his own cheek with the tips of his fingers as if tracing the movement Barba’s fingers had taken. “And then, uh, he kissed me.”

There was something pained in the way he said it, as if that part of the memory hurt more than the rest. He lowered his hand slowly, holding it in front of himself and staring at it as if it wasn’t his hand at all that he was seeing. “I’ve replayed that moment in my head so many times,” he said, his voice low, “I’ve dissected every little detail, but I can’t—I can’t remember—”

Carisi broke off and Dr. Hanover leaned forward. “What are you struggling to remember?”

“I don’t know what I did with my hands.” Carisi’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “When Barba was kissing me. Did I-I grab him? Hold him? I wouldn’t have pushed him away, I know that, I’d wanted for way too long but— I don’t remember touching him. And I don’t know if that’s why…”

“Why what?”

“Why he stopped.” He said it flatly, dispassionately. “His hand - he dropped it, and he took a step back, and he said ‘I’m sorry’. And I asked why, and he squared his shoulders and he looked me in the eyes and—” His voice broke. “I’ll never forget. Not for as long as I live. He looked at me and he said, ‘Because they’re about to put a warrant out for my arrest for felony homicide. And I’m here to surrender myself to police custody.’”

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth before letting out a shaky breath. “I think I laughed, to tell you the truth. Like a weird, nervous, uh, chuckle or something. But he didn’t smile. He just looked at me. And—”

“And?” Dr. Hanover prompted softly.

“And I felt like someone had just punched a hole in my chest.” Carisi squeezed his eyes closed. “He is — he  _ was _ — the best man that I’ve ever known, and for him to do something like that, for him to kill—” He broke off as if the word itself pained him as much as thinking about the act. “He said he wanted to be the one to tell me, but I wish he hadn’t. I wish I had heard it from anyone but him, in any other way because maybe I could still think about him without feeling that hole in my chest.”

Dr. Hanover nodded slowly. “And what did you do after that?”

Carisi shrugged, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I told him to sit while I made a few calls. Got confirmation of the warrant, so I mirandized him and drove him into the precinct, handed him off to the desk sergeant. And that was the end of it.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them before Carisi let out a dry sound that might’ve been an attempt at a laugh and sat forward, managing a small, strained smile for Dr. Hanover. “I get the technique now, at least,” he said. “You help vics to work through their trauma, to go back there in a controlled way. It’s a good tactic.”

Dr. Hanover gave him a measured look. “And yet you don’t seem particularly satisfied with the results.”

Carisi made a face. “I’m sure a lot of vics probably aren’t satisfied after this,” he muttered. “And they have to work through a lot harder things than I did.”

“Maybe,” Dr. Hanover acknowledged. “But a lot of them also get something worthwhile out of this — closure. And you don’t look like you’ve gotten any closure.”

Carisi sighed. “I’m not sure there’s a way to get closure from this,” he admitted, his eyes flicker up to Dr. Hanover’s and away again. “I mean, I work in the same building he worked in. Hell, I work twenty feet from his old office. I walk the same halls he walked, I stand up in the same courtrooms he did — I feel like I’m being haunted, and he’s not even dead, just...gone.”

Dr. Hanover set her pad of paper on her desk. “When was the last time you spoke to him?” she asked.

Carisi glanced up at her before looking away again. “Oh, that was it,” he said dismissively, as if it was an unimportant fact.

Judging by the incredulous look Dr. Hanover gave him, it wasn’t. “You haven’t spoken to him since you arrested him?”

“Technically, I didn’t arrest him, I just took him into custody, but…” He trailed off, his expression darkening. “But, no, I haven’t. I wasn’t really supposed to talk to him during the trial, given everything, and then as soon as it was all over, he just — he left.”

Dr. Hanover fiddled with her pen for a moment as if debating over what she wanted to say before setting it down decisively on top of her pad of paper. “This isn’t a counseling session,” she started, and Carisi’s head snapped up.

“No, I know that, I—I didn’t mean—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Which means that I’m at liberty to give you some blunt advice instead of trying to steer you toward realizing what you need to do for yourself.” She leaned forward and gave Carisi a look. “Call him.”

Carisi jerked back. “I don’t really wanna—” he started, and again she cut him off.

“I know. I know you don’t. But if you don’t call him, if you don’t talk to him, that moment with him in your apartment will be what you think of every single time you think of him.” She gave him a small smile. “And while I realize I don’t know you very well, Counselor, and I never met Mr. Barba, from the way you talk about him, there’s a lot of really good memories there, ones I’d imagine you’d much rather think about when you’re working twenty feet from his old office or standing in the courtroom where he used to.”

Though Carisi nodded, he didn’t look convinced. “I know you’re right, but…”

He trailed off and Dr. Hanover looked closely at him. “What part are you most afraid of, in calling him? Are you afraid he’ll ask you for forgiveness?”

Carisi snorted. “Rafael Barba, ask for forgiveness— Christ, I don’t think any of us will live to see the day.” He sighed and shook his head. “Besides, there’s nothing for me to forgive.”

“Not even—”

Carisi shrugged, looking almost wistful. “I know I said I wish he hadn’t told me, but — as easier as it would’ve been, I don’t think I would’ve forgiven him if he hadn’t been the one to tell me.”

Dr. Hanover didn’t look surprised by that. “Then if not forgiveness, what are you afraid of?”

“That the next time I speak to him, it really will be the last. That he’s not the same man that he used to be, and he won’t — and it won’t be like old times.” He shook his head. “I know it’s stupid, but at least this way, I can always pretend…”

He trailed off. “And that sounds pathetic.”

“It doesn’t,” Dr. Hanover assured him. “Besides, don’t you think you deserve the chance to find out?” Carisi shrugged and Dr. Hanover shuffled some papers on her desk before standing. “Well, like I said, this isn’t a counseling session, so I’m going to cut us off there, but I expect this whole experience has given you a lot to think about.”

Carisi managed a real smile this time as he stood as well and leaned in to shake her hand. “Yes, it has,” he said. “Thank you, Doc. I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this technique — and everything else.”

Dr. Hanover smiled as well. “It was my pleasure.” She sat back down and glanced back at her notes before hesitating and looking up at Carisi, who had just gotten to the door. “It’ll come back to you, you know.”

Carisi paused, his hand on the doorknob. “What will?” he asked.

“The memory of what you did with your hands.” Carisi’s smile slipped, just slightly. “You’ll remember one day. When you’re ready to.”

Carisi nodded slowly. “Thanks, Doc,” he said. “And, uh...I think I got a call I need to make.”

“Good luck,” she told him, and Carisi nodded again before closing the door after him.

He tucked his hands in his pockets as he made his way slowly down the hallway, hesitating when he reached the elevator. Instead of pushing the button, his fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart. “Hey,” he said, every line in his body relaxing as the person on the other end picked up. “It’s me.”


End file.
